


You Don't Know How Lovely You Are

by holyroller



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Gen, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-01
Updated: 2016-03-01
Packaged: 2018-05-24 03:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6139439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holyroller/pseuds/holyroller
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Handsome Jack is dead and Hyperion-led scouting squadrons are after both the sheriff of Lynchwood and his original body double for any Hyperion secrets they may know and overall association with Handsome Jack. </p><p>The thing is, they’re on the run together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Know How Lovely You Are

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the first thing I've been able to finish in months. I'm fairly proud of it but there's always the chance that I got everything wrong. This is inspired by that one Coldplay song, ya'll know which one. Un-beta'd and I've only re-read through it a couple times so do let me know if anything sounds weird.
> 
> Thanks for reading in advance <3

Sometimes it takes her longer than a few minutes to remember the sheets she’s lying in aren’t the ones Jack had sent her. She’s not in the room sized bed that she’s usually accustomed to. This is the case especially if she’s waking up to find his face across from hers.

For a few moments she lets herself drift between sleep, slowly inching forward, as if to press herself against him. Jack, in all his morning glory, was a sight she prided herself in being able to see. Not many people knew the time it took him to get his hair just right, the way his eyes were darker in the mornings, or of the things he said in the morning while half asleep. Disgustingly sweet.

She shuffles to the side once more before she hears him hum in his sleep. She opens her eyes for a second and almost smiles at the sight. His eyelashes were long and beautiful and despite the hell he’d been through. Even the scar that dragged horizontally across his - wait.

Jack’s scar was an Eridian mark.

She hadn’t been looking at Jack.

Jack was dead.

Memories of the past month crash on her like a meteor shower and she’s jumped out of the bed in a flash. He stirs and she watches him rub his eyes before he gives her a soft un-Jack like grin.

“Morning,”

“Yeah,” she says softly.

“Nightmares again?”

She shakes her head, “It’s fine. We should go.”

“Yeah,” he frowns and she wishes it was Jack.

They’d been on the run since the day he came crashing through the gates of Lynchwood. He’d brought news.

“Nisha! Nisha, where the hell are you!?”

“Jack?”

As the sheriff, she’d never been too far from the station gates. She remembers the moment pretty clearly. She thought Jack had gotten in trouble with a group he’d underestimated again.

_“No,” he had taken the mask he wore off and she was met with a former ally. The scar on his face runs horizontally across his nose. It’s the wrong one._

_“Why are you here, Tim?”_

_“Jack is dead. We have to go.”_

It hadn’t been that simple. She’d never let it be that simple. She’d hounded him until he’d told her how Hyperion had cut him off from both payroll and the job. He’d said they tried to take him up for ‘questioning’ up on Helios as soon as news of Jack’s death had gotten out. Knowing the company better than most, he raided Jack’s office and fled to Pandora. To Lynchwood.

The rest, she didn’t like to think about.

It had been nearly a month and she still wasn’t used to waking up in abandoned buildings next to Jack’s body double. She knew that he knew it and was grateful he’d acted against his impulse to try and get her to talk about it. She’d spent a lot of time with him on Elpis, she knew how the kid’s mind worked.

He yawns and stretches as he stands up from the bed. His hair’s longer than Jack’s. She watches him exit the room before releasing a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

They got along fairly well, more so than when they’d all been brought together up on Helios. She’d never been fond of Athena, Claptrap, and much less of that pompous snake Aurelia. But the kid and Wilhelm had definitely been the nicer company at the time. She hadn’t seen either of them since the Vault of the Sentinel, so when the kid had shown up at her doorstep, she was surprised to have gone on the run with someone so different than the person she’d known on Elpis. He’d stopped screaming about his fear of heights and he knew his way around a gun fairly well. She could respect that at least.

She changes into her clothing quickly and within moments there’s a knock on the door.

“You good?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she finishes buttoning up her shirt as he steps in. He wears a dark jeans, a grey shirt, and an old navy blue jacket.

“Whenever you’re ready, at the rendezvous,” he shrugs a short cloak on and lifts the hood over his head before stepping out again. He’s got his things on his back and is out the door in seconds.

He had gotten into the habit of wearing a cloak as of late, like a reserved bandit. And ordinarily she would chastise him for it, but with a face like his, she understands the need to not want to be seen.

Their days are fairly repetitive and she’s constantly bored by the need to be on the constant vigilance. They move from place to place and do more surviving than living. She constantly remembers happier days in Lynchwood as they clear out what seemed to be an old Dahl warehouse. They had walked for miles across the desert and she’d watched him take out the bandit guard from 500 feet away. She was jealous of the scope on his sniper rifle, but not as she pulled her second gun from its holster and fired away at surrounding bandits. Her adrenaline rushes and she laughs as the body count grows. By the time they’d cleared the warehouse the sun had begun to set.

And that was her life now.

Nothing but moving from place to place just to be able to hold over until morning. He helps her barricade the entrances. When they’re sure there’s no immediate danger they use whatever was left of the warehouse to set up a makeshift table. He sits on one side with his back against the wall as she looks through the bag of supplies she carries with her. She hands him some of their dwindling provisions. They’d have to start scavenging soon.

“I’m going to blow both of our brains out if I have to keep doing this any longer,” she says through a mouthful of what’s supposed to be canned soup.

“It’s just until we can get to Hollow Point,” he offers her a concerned look and she wishes he hadn’t, “no one’ll think to come looking in a cave. Not Hyperion or anyone.”

She frowns and looks away from his gaze, “Yeah, okay.”

“Hey, s’not my fault Lynchwood is across the damn planet.”

She turns back to look at him and the slight scowl on his face amuses her. He’d been Jack for too long, some things he was made to do as Jack just became his own.

“And why did you go get me?” she asks, genuinely curious.

His expression becomes one of worry before quickly fading into a collected pensive look. He shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“You do know,” she takes another gulp from the can of cold soup before continuing, “you’re not Jack. You care more than he did.”

“Yeah, okay. I knew they’d be after you too, considering everyone and their mother knew you two had sex on Tassiter’s old desk. You probably know of some Hyperion secrets that they don’t want out in the open.”

She nods, “And so do you.”

“Yeah. And,” he rubs the back of his head, “I- I don’t think I could have made it out on my own.”

She laughs sincerely, “You’re right.”

He scowls and she laughs again. His buttons were always easier to press than Jack’s.

“He tell you anything of worth?” he asks.

“Some things that’ll probably cost Hyperion a few million dollars, but nothing too important,” she shrugs.

“They’d never believe you if you said you didn’t know anything,” he frowns at the ground the same way Jack did when something went wrong.

“Still, I can’t blame them for the ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ policy. I pretty much live that way,” she shrugs.

“That’s fair,” he shakes his head before picking at the fabric of the cloak he wore.

She downs the remainder of the soup before tossing the can aside. It lands somewhere with a clank that rings louder than it should be.

“What’d Jack have you do after we all left the vault of the Sentinel?” she brings her legs up to her chest and hugs them as she looks ahead at the remnants of what was probably an armor production plant.

She hears the frown in his voice, “he had the damn magnets implanted into my face.”

“To be fair, he had them implanted into his face, too,” she offers him a smile that wasn’t very sympathetic.

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah. After that I was pretty much his presence on Helios. He spent the majority of his time down near the Bunker or in other places on Pandora. I pretty much ran Hyperion.”

“Corporate king, then. Must’ve hurt to have it all snatched from under you.”

“Nah, it wasn’t ever really mine. None of this is. This isn’t my life. Or at least it shouldn’t be,” he stops picking at the fabric of the cloak before looking in the direction she was, “still. I will definitely miss the money.”

“Jack won’t be able to send me fancy things anymore,” she pauses for a moment, in realization before following her comment up, “What an asshole.”

“Right? Just up and dying like that?”

They share a glance and a quick grin before laughing. He looks back at the old machinery before feeling her gaze still on him. She stares at him curiously for a few moments before turning herself to completely face him.

“You know about me, about my fling with Jack, about my job in Lynchwood. But nobody ever found anything out about you. Save for your name,”

“Ye-ah,” he looks up at the ceiling, “I kind of signed that all away when I took this job.”

“Well, with Jack being dead I think that puts you in charge,” she assures, “besides I’m sure he wouldn’t mind you telling me of all people.”

He considers it for a moment. A long moment.

“So, you know how this happened from the echos. I- um, there wasn’t really anything to know? I’m kinda boring,” his face scrunches as he remembers things from before being a vault hunter.

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Purple,” he says immediately.

“Good,” she nods in approval, “Where did you go to school?”

“Eden-5. My mom lives there, too.”

“You’re from there?”

He nods. She continues staring forward at the old machinery. They sit in silence.

“Tell me about your mom,” the phrase lingers in the air for a few moments. He nearly regrets saying anything when she answers.

“There isn’t much that wasn’t on the echos. I wasn’t her favourite,” she shrugs.

“How’d she die?”

A little smile sets on her lips as she answers, “Accident, surprisingly.”

“An accident or an accident?”

“A real one. By some miracle her time ran up.”

“That’s- good? I think?”

“Better than good. Great,” she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear as she shifts from her position on the floor to kneel. She looks through her bag atop the makeshift table and frowns when she doesn’t find what she was looking for. He’s tempted to ask but refrains.

“I thought you’d have moved in with Jack on Helios,” he comments offhandedly.

“Me? Never,” she laughs, “Jack wanted me to. I couldn’t commit to that. To him, sure, but to his dream? I wasn’t taught to aspire that far. Lynchwood was enough.”

“You didn’t want to be a hero?”

She laughs sincerely. And it’s different from her usual indifferent chuckles. It’s soft and lasts only a few seconds at most, “I’m no hero.”

He pouts, “we kind of did save the world that one time.”

“Yeah, we did,” her tone changes, “but we did it for Jack. It was his dream. He was the hero.”

“Okay,” he looks down at the ground as her words sink in.

The silence sets again before she looks up at him from her bag again. He awkwardly makes eye contact before giving her a questioning look.

“What did you look like before all of this?” she asks looking up from her bag.

“I- I don’t know how to answer that?” He gestures awkwardly to his face.

She crosses her arms, “start with the basics. I doubt both you and Jack were born with two different colour eyes?”

“Ah, no, yeah, they were like a caramel colour,” he laughs nervously.

“And your hair?”

“Lighter than this,” he tugs at a lock hanging past his ear, “I don’t think the effects of what they did to me are permanent everywhere. I think it’ll grow back soon.”

He looks down at the ground again. She shifts forward past the table so she’s kneeling beside his spot on the ground. He tries to shift away awkwardly.

“Relax, I’m not going to eat you,” she crosses her arms. He relents and she continues, “that said. How old are you?”

“28,” he watches her expression curiously. It’s like she’s been told a secret. He asks, “why? How old are you?”

Her eyes widen slightly and she nearly laughs, “39. You were what- 23 when we started out?”

“I ‘died’ like three days after having picked up my degree,” he shrugs.

She laughs, “it isn’t doing you much good now, is it?”

He frowns and her amusement is evident on her face, “still, though. You’re smart, young, and absolutely gorgeous. Not a bad deal. He could have given you the vault scar.”

He notes her word choice. Handsome was Jack’s word.

“And the entirety of Hyperion wants me dead. Yeah, Nish, good times,” the sarcasm drips from his every word in Jack-like fashion. She laughs again.

“Okay,” she raises one of her legs and moves it over his lap, so that she can adjust herself into a straddling position him without actually touching him, “now, tell me what you looked like.”

His eyes widen slightly, “I wasn’t this good looking.”

“No one is,” she shuts her eyes and puts her hands on his face, “map it out for me.”

He reaches up and takes hold of both her wrists, “okay, uh,” he shuts his own eyes and raises her hands up to his forehead, “uh, so my hair was lighter and this wasn’t as big as it is.”

Her hands slide down past his eyelids, “these were brown,” she says. He nods slightly.

“My cheekbones were never this good. I had freckles, though” he admits with a slight laugh, “face was probably about the same shape, maybe less narrow. No facial hair, though, couldn’t grow it right.”

He opens his eyes and watches her expression. It’s pensive and he imagines she’s trying to figure him out. Her mouth opens a few times as if she were to speak, but she doesn’t say anything. Since they’d gone on the run, her lips were always slightly chapped and her hair had lost some of its natural shimmer. He counts the series of small blemishes that line her cheeks as her eyes open and he’s forced into making eye contact with her.

“You- uh, you get anything from that?” he asks, her gaze doesn’t falter and her golden eyes seem to stare right through him. He lets go of her wrists.

After a few moments she shakes her head and puts her hands on his shoulders, “nope. It’s fun watching you squirm, though.”

He frowns and she responds with a small smirk that makes him squint his eyes. Her ability to strike at things he found downright irritating was almost incredible. Still, he couldn’t say he never understood what Jack saw in her. She was beautiful and had a personality that made even Handsome Jack sit down and respect the hell out of her. Tim admired that, at the very least.

The realization that her face is inches apart from his own snaps him from his thoughts.

“What are you doing?” he asks. She doesn’t respond.

He tries backing away ineffectively and awkwardly stammers, “s-should we kiss?”

She laughs and it’s like the sincere one from earlier, only louder, “no. absolutely not,” she keeps laughing and presses herself forward, into an awkward hug, at least for him. He feels her breath against his neck. In seconds she’s pulled away from him and is up walking towards the old machinery.

“We could scavenge some things from here, see what we can sell,” she pulls open a drawer and waves away a cloud of dust.

“Sounds good,” he calls from behind as he pulls his own bag into his lap, “I’ve got old Hyperion things that should sell pretty nicely.”

Eventually he helps her search the old machinery and they find old computer systems that should sell to those trying to bring about the new Atlas Corporation. There’d been word of various old workers trying to get the name despite the threat of Athena existing. Though none of them knew the actual title deed to the corporation was up in Handsome Jack’s old office.

It takes her hours to dismantle a turret system and by the end of it she’s aching in places she didn’t know could ache. She removes her revolver from its holster and goes to sit beside his sleeping form in the corner.

They’d been lucky to have found an area that seemed to be clear of scavengers. Most nights they slept in intervals, with someone watching the only door they didn’t barricade. However, these past two nights had been fairly lucky in terms of break-ins and she found herself drifting to sleep again as she sat in the makeshift bed they’d made out of old cardboard boxes. The feeling of her revolver slipping from her hands shakes her from sleep, though eventually sleep won her over.

And she wakes up to the same face again. Not Jack.

She doesn’t move this time. The kid’s curled up to the side and it’s almost funny how vulnerable he looks. She looks up at the ceiling that’s being eroded by the weird Pandoran bug life and counts the nests.

“What a legacy you left behind, Jack,” she whispers to no one, “your empire’s being taken over by minions greedier than you were and your friends are being hunted like bandits.”

She frowns at the thought. It dawns on her that she misses the man. Despite the fact that she could never agree with what he was pursuing, she did know of the man who went days without sleep because he’d been thinking about his daughter. She liked Jack, his many, many, faults and all. She definitely hoped to see him again someday. Maybe in a place where that siren bitch didn’t drive him insane. A place where his daughter wasn’t put through a machine for most of her life. A place where he was a hero.

She shuts her eyes and lets herself drift off again, remembering her days before the Vault of the Sentinel. The feeling of corrupt necks were snapped under the heels of her boots and how she’d made a living taking martial law into her own hands. And then came the echo recording of a small time Hyperion employee with an interesting proposition. Find a vault. Be a hero.

The small windows near the ceiling are dark and she wonders how far Elpis is. How long ago Elpis was for her.

He stirs beside her and she clicks the safety on her gun.

“Hey, kid. Wake up. It’s your turn,”

He mumbles something but complies. She slides herself into a lying position as he slowly and groggily sits up before rubbing his eyes for a minute straight.

“Any sign o’ bandits?” he practically slurs his words.

“Nah,” she slides her folded up jacket under her head and shuts her eyes. She hears the clicking of a rifle and breathes easier.

“What are we gonna do in Hollow Point?” she asks, not opening her eyes.

“I don’t know. I think more about convincing people I’m not Jack,” he yawns.

“That’s fair,” she considers her own predicament, “I could start up some kind of gang. You’d be safe with me.”

“Thanks,” she hears him shift around, “but if it’s all the same to you, I’m tired of being shot at.”

“Woulda thought you’d be used to it by now,” she almost laughs.

“You would think that but I’d like to be alive and old someday.”

“Jack lived to be nearly 50,” she argues. Her voice softens as sleep sets in.

“50 is nowhere near old,” he retorts, almost in disbelief.

“You’re right.”

He doesn’t reply, or maybe he does. She doesn’t know. Sleep’s come over her like a casual ocean wave and it doesn’t hit her that she’s currently lying on a stack of cardboard boxes until morning comes.


End file.
